Last week my desk was full of drama and arguments between the Boss Man (the scientist one) and me over which version of Sunday Morning Coming Down is better, the Johnny Cash cover or the Kris Kristofferson version.
Clearly Johnny Cash runs away with it, but you can't tell people nothin'.
He'd storm into my aisle loudly criticizing my taste in music (which is ludicrous, I have phenomenal taste in music) and chiding that I was wrong and deaf. Then he had the nerve - the nerve, people! - to tell me I was "old" while he and the VP of finance celebrated this supposed burn by double-fist bumping. Have you ever seen two old white guys fist-bump? Talk about awkward.
I told the Boss Man that the Kris Kristopherson version sounds like something you'd hear on an adult contemporary radio station. Hey guess what you guys? Nothing excites anger quite like having a song you like identified with Warm 98.
Heads. Will. Roll. (And that head would be mine.)
We even dragged in passers-by to the dispute. Seeing us argue a colleague lamented, "Look at you guys fighting in front of us! What about us, the children?! Think of the Heart Institute!"
Friday as he was leaving the Boss Man said, "What's it like being smart but so dumb when it comes to music?"
Funny how our minds think alike.
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